


all about a dragon

by lunapark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (slight) Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottoming from the Top, Halloween Aftermath, Hooking Up & Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapark/pseuds/lunapark
Summary: All too quickly, Merlin becomes painfully, embarrassingly aware of how he must look, hair uncombed and messy, dressed in old sweats and an oversized t-shirt that readsTHE CAT'S MEOW. At least he'd remembered to shave that morning.





	all about a dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Finally found time to write something for my favorite holiday of the year! Although this technically takes place on Halloween, all of the good stuff happens after the fact. ;) 
> 
> (The age difference is ~7 years, but both are legally consenting adults. Just FYI in case that squicks you out!)

•••

 

“…and, okay, _this_ is why I refuse to hand out candy this year—last year, this little…little  _troll_  came to the door—way past his goddamn bedtime, might I add, but maybe demon children don’t have a bedtime—dressed in all red and he didn’t say ‘trick-or-treat,’ oh no, he said, ‘Sorry I’m late. I’m your period,’ like that stupid Instagram post, so I shut the door in his face and—are you  _laughing_ , Merlin?!” 

Merlin clears his throat. “No,” he says innocently. “Just, uh, have a bit of a cough.” He throws in a couple of hacks for added effect, but Freya doesn’t buy it.

“ _I’m_  the one with bronchitis, stupid. That was a pathetic attempt.” 

“…Love you?”

“I hate you,” she mumbles. Merlin is pretty sure she’s giving him the finger on the other line. She sniffles a bit, sounding all wet and congested, and Merlin winces in sympathy. 

“Maybe you should call it an early night, Frey.” 

“Trust me to be sick on my favorite holiday,” she whines. “Couldn’t even go to Gwen’s party.”

Merlin stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Ditto.” 

“You could’ve gone!”

“You were my date!” 

“No, I was your wingwoman,” she clarifies pointedly. “Merlin, you’re gorgeous and I love you to pieces, but you’re as gay as a goose. I gave up trying to turn you years ago.” 

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t going to Gwen’s party alone this year. _Again_.” He makes a face and spits out an unpopped kernel. “Last year she kept trying to set me up with her guy friends like I was some charity case. It was so embarrassing.” 

“Seemed like you really hit it off with Gwaine,” Freya says thoughtfully. 

“Not my type.” Merlin starts flipping through the TV channels as the last of The Exorcist trilogy finishes, half heartedly settling on a Twilight Zone marathon as the wind and rain pick up outside. "I mean—I _like_ him, just not like that. More of a friend than anything.”

“Merlin, he has the _most_ _obvious_ raging boner for you.” 

“‘m flattered.” 

“Apparently not flattered enough to fuck him.“

“ _Freya_!”

“Okay, okay.” She giggles, then coughs a little more. “But in all seriousness, when are you going to find yourself a nice boy and settle down?”

“You sound like my mom.” 

“Just looking out for you, honey.”

Merlin sighs loudly. “I don’t think I’d find Mr. Right by going to some Halloween party and hooking up with the first pretty face I saw.” He rests his head on the back of the couch. “In a perfect world, he would show up on my doorstep and—”

“Charm the pants off you, literally,” Freya adds sotto voce. 

“—we’d watch horror flicks until we fell asleep on the couch and I’d get drool on his shirt and he wouldn’t care and then we’d make out despite our morning breath. Or something. I don’t know.”

“Oh, _Merlin_.” It’s the voice Freya uses when she’s taking pity on him. It makes him feel like a homeless kitten. “That is...the lamest, grossest, sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up.”

Never in his life has Merlin been happier to hear the doorbell ring. He jumps up in his haste, spilling some popcorn on the couch. “Looks like the trick-or-treaters are starting early tonight ‘cause of the weather,” he says, trying not to make it sound like he’s evading when he really is. “I, uh, need to go. Don’t want the candy going to waste.”

“Oh, all right,” Freya says, not quite sounding convinced. “Don’t stay up too late stuffing your face with leftover chocolate to drown your sorrows. Don’t give me that look, Merlin, _I know you_.”

“‘Night, Frey.”

“Nighty night, lover boy.”

Merlin sets his phone on silent and tosses it behind a pillow, determined not to check it for the rest of the night.

•••

As it turns out, the inclement weather does little to deter the trick-or-treaters, and his emergency candy bag is almost gone as it nears the end of the night. His entire block is teaming with college students, which doesn’t make it the friendliest for kids during Halloween; but since Will was going to be out of town this year, Merlin had decided to go all out and thrown up a bunch of decorations—spiderwebs covering the trees, skeleton lights hanging from the roof, and a giant anamatronic Cheshire cat near the mailbox that moved its head whenever someone walked by (borrowed from Uncle Gaius).

Apparently it had been a huge hit among the kids—except for the kid dressed as The Flash. He had cried and run away. 

Merlin is just about to turn off the porch light when the bell rings. He looks longingly at the remaining candy—Sour Skittles, his favorite—and for a split second he considers not opening the door and just keeping the leftovers, but that makes him feel like a huge jerk. In the end, Merlin relents and grudgingly grabs the little green packets, silently grumbling to himself as he opens the front door.  

“Trick or treat, Merlin!”

It’s Morgana, one of the little girls whose kindergarten class visits the library every Thursday afternoon for storytime. Merlin brightens in an instant, smiling kindly and crouching down so he’s eye level with her. 

“Why, hello there.” He cocks his head, feigning confusion. “Now, you _sound_ like Morgie, but you look like a witch! Which is it?” 

Morgana giggles. “It _is_ me, Merlin! But this is my Halloween costume.” She does a little spin to show off the black and purple lace detail, readjusting her pointed hat as a heavy gust of wind blows it down low over her eyes. “D'you like it?” 

Merlin taps her nose. “You are the prettiest little witch I ever did see.” 

Morgana preens, pleased. “This is my dragon,” she announces proudly, holding up a blue plush. 

Merlin gives one of the pale yellow ears a little squeeze. “What’s his name?”

“ _Her_ name is Aithusa,” Morgana replies matter-of-factly.

“Aithusa,” Merlin repeats, nodding solemnly. “Well, would she like some candy as well?” 

“You’d better hold off. She’s already gotten a candy haul big enough to let her dentist retire early.” 

Merlin’s head jerks up at the new voice, distinctly male and distinctly _not_ Morgana, just in time to see a man step up behind her and— _oh_. Merlin's brain short circuits. Bright, warm blue eyes. Windblown blond hair. Sharp, clean-shaven jawline. And to top it off, dark jeans and a knitted red sweater that does wonders for his broad shoulders and strong chest. If this guy's back looks even half as good as his front, Merlin is fucked. 

He takes Morgana’s hand in his own and smiles down at her dotingly, showing a row of white, slightly crooked teeth. 

Okay, Merlin silently amends, so he’s already fucked. 

He realizes then that he’s been staring with his mouth hanging open this entire time and quickly clicks his jaw shut. “Um. I, uh—” Merlin clears his throat and gets to his feet, which proves to be more difficult than expected because his legs have turned to jelly. “I’m sorry. Are you Morgana’s...father?"

“This is my brother,” Morgana pipes up, craning her head to glare up at him, clearly annoyed at the prospect of getting less candy.

“Brother?” Merlin repeats, trying not to sound as surprised as he feels. Merlin looks from her to him and then back. Last week, Morgana had excitedly told him that she was going to go trick-or-treating with her big brother this year, but Merlin had been picturing someone younger. Much younger. Like maybe a twelve-year-old.

“ _This_ is Artie?” 

“Arthur,” he corrects. This time the full force of his smile is directed at Merlin. “It’s good to finally meet you, Merlin.”

Merlin blinks once, twice. “You know my name?”

Arthur chuckles, friendly. Is it possible for a voice to sound as smooth and rich as chocolate tastes? Merlin is starting to regret those beers he chugged earlier. “Morgana is very fond of you,” he explains, swooping down to pick up his sister, who folds her arms haughtily. If Merlin didn’t know any better, he’d think she looked rather jealous. “She told me you were her library friend named after a wizard.” 

Merlin flushes at that. He was named after a bird, actually, but he isn’t going to be that pedantic. All too quickly, Merlin becomes painfully, embarrassingly aware of how he must look, hair uncombed and messy, dressed in old sweats and an oversized t-shirt that reads **THE CAT'S MEOW**. At least he'd remembered to shave that morning.

The cold prickle of raindrops on his nose helps Merlin regain his focus. He hastily deposits the remaining packets of Skittles in Morgana's little witch's-cauldron-candy-bag, grinning at Morgana when she gasps and says thank you, ignoring Arthur's disapproving groan entirely.

"For my favorite witch and her dragon," Merlin says, winking. Morgana smiles at him shyly, then at Arthur with more smugness than should be possible for any five-year-old.

"Say goodbye, Morgana," Arthur says, tugging the witch’s hat more protectively over her head as the rain starts to pick up. "It's time to get you home and into bed. Don’t want you getting sick."

Morgana wrinkles her nose at him, looking sorely disappointed that she isn't a real witch because otherwise she could turn Arthur into a toad. "Fine," she grumbles, but smiles wide when she looks at Merlin. 

"Bye, Merlin!"

"Goodnight, sweetheart,” Merlin says, smiling. He keeps the smile resolutely frozen in place when he glances at Arthur, nodding once. 

“It was nice meeting you,” he says quickly. “Uh—Arthur.”

“Likewise,” Arthur agrees, eyes round and big and earnest. And very, very blue.

Merlin remains in the doorway just long enough to see Arthur run down the steps of his porch and into the steady drizzle, carefully maneuvering Morgana in his arms to keep her as dry as possible. He leans back against the door as soon as it closes, eyes squeezed shut in annoyance and frustration because, yeah, Arthur’s back _does_ look just as good as his front. 

•••

Merlin’s plans for the rest of the night consisted of another beer, a hot shower, and shamefully jerking himself off to some sleazy porn before drifting off to sleep, determined not to dream about Arthur’s fantastic ass. 

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—for him, none of these things happen. 

Because not even an hour after Morgana and Arthur have left, Merlin hears a soft knocking on the door. He thinks it’s just the wind and rain playing tricks on him, but the knocking continues, louder this time, followed by the doorbell ringing. Merlin considers not opening the door, but then he hears muffled shouting on the other side. He reaches behind the sofa and grabs Will’s old baseball bat, holding it at the ready like in all those B-rated slasher flicks, and tiptoes towards the front door, slowly opening it to reveal—

“ _Arthur_?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Yes, it’s me,” he shouts over the rain, sounding winded. He looks soaked through and through, shivering, the rain having matted his hair to his forehead. “Sorry to bother you, but— First, will you lower the bat?”

“Oh—sorry,” Merlin mutters. Then, dubiously, “Care to tell me what you’re doing here?” 

Note to the Halloween gods: he didn’t do booty calls, but as they say, there’s a first time for everything.

“Morgana lost her stuffed dragon,” he explains, and Merlin feels a twinge of disappointment. He definitely does not watch the way the water runs down Arthur’s lips when he talks. “She won’t stop crying and refuses to sleep. She last had it when we were here. Do you mind if I take a look around?”

“Yes— I mean, no, I mean—” Merlin sighs. “Of course you can look. I’ll help you.” He’s already grabbing his raincoat off the rack and hurriedly shoving his feet in his boots when he realizes Arthur’s told him it’s not necessary. 

“People are gonna notice some strange guy digging around my yard. This neighborhood is notorious for getting egged and teepeed,” Merlin explains breezily. “So unless you want this to turn into a huge fiasco with the cops, I’m coming out.”

Arthur doesn’t argue this time, but that may have more to do with his chattering teeth than actually agreeing.

They spend a good twenty minutes searching Merlin’s front yard for the plush, tripping over faux gravestones and getting tangled up in cobwebs. (“Jesus, Merlin, did you _really_ need to put up these many webs?” “Actually, I think that one’s real.”) They cause enough of a commotion that his next door neighbor, Alice, switches on her porch light and stares them down suspiciously from her bedroom window, leaving only when Merlin shines a flashlight in his face and waves up at her, wearing what he hopes is a friendly smile.

“We’d better hurry,” he shouts at Arthur, taking a heavy step forward towards the bushes, and— 

His heart stops when he feels a soft _squish_ beneath his boot. 

“Shit,” Merlin mutters, wincing. He bends down, silently praying that he hasn’t crushed Aithusa to the point of her stuffing leaking out, when he hears Arthur’s footsteps rush up behind him.

“You found it!” Arthur shouts, and claps Merlin on the back so hard it momentarily knocks the wind out of him. 

“There’s, uh, been some weather damage,” Merlin says meekly, holding up the muddy little dragon. At least the damage didn’t look beyond repair. 

“How did it get so...” Arthur trails off and glances down at Merlin’s boot. “You _stepped_ on it?!”

“It was an accident!”

“ _Merlin_!”

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Merlin mumbles. He’s feeling guilty enough without having to hear it from Arthur too. Merlin trudges past him to the porch, scraping the brunt of the mud from his boots onto the concrete before stepping inside. “I have a washing machine, will be as good as new in no time. Come on.”

•••

It’s not until after he has Aithusa tumbling in the gentle spin cycle of the washing machine that Merlin realizes two things:

One, Arthur and his waterlogged clothes are making a sizable puddle on the floor. 

Two. _Arthur is in his house_. 

He’d excused himself to make a phone call, probably to let Morgana know Aithusa has been found (mostly) safe and sound, but that was a few minutes ago which means he’ll be back any second now. Merlin tries to use the remaining time to come up with a veritable game plan, but just ends up watching Aithusa alternate between sinking and resurfacing in an ocean of suds.

“She, uh, cried herself to sleep, according to my dad,” Arthur says once he’s returned. Merlin had offered him a towel to dry off once they’d gotten inside, and now his hair is sticking up at fluffy, silly angles. How he still manages to look delicious, Merlin will never understand.

“Poor thing.”

“She’s a brat.” Arthur shakes his head. “All of that for a stupid stuffed dragon.” 

“Aithusa,” Merlin corrects, smiling cheekily at the exasperated look Arthur throws his way. “And you don’t mean that. You adore her.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, but his face softens, which is answer enough.

They stand in silence for a few long moments, listening to the steady rumble of the washing machine. Merlin chews the inside of his lip and weighs his options—he hadn’t seen a car outside, which means Arthur must’ve walked here, and it’s still raining too hard to send him back out in good conscience. 

Arthur says, “I should go,” the same time Merlin asks, “Want a drink?”

“No offense, but no Uber or Lyft driver is gonna want you ruining their upholstery with your wet clothes,” Merlin says, grinning. “I can give you something clean to wear while your clothes dry.” Merlin would offer to put them in the dryer, but he’s not entirely sure he wouldn’t end up shrinking them.

Arthur looks him down once, eyes intense when they meet Merlin’s again despite the friendly, inviting smile on his face. “I don’t think we’re the same size.” It’s an innocent enough observation, but the way he says it shoots a heavy pulse of desire through Merlin.

“You can wear something of Will’s,” Merlin says, proud of himself for keeping his voice steady. 

“Will?”

“My roommate.” Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Friend,” Merlin tacks on quickly, then mentally kicks himself. “He’s, uh, out of town, but I think he’s more or less your size. If you’re up for it?”

“Thank you,” Arthur says, all teeth, and wouldn’t Merlin like to see that mouth put to use in all sorts of interesting ways.

It takes him a while, but Merlin manages to fish a nondescript white t-shirt and pair of jogging bottoms from the “clean laundry” pile in Will’s room. He returns to the living room to find Arthur, mindful of the furniture, standing and watching the Twilight Zone marathon with mild interest.

He smiles crookedly at Merlin. “More of a Tales from the Crypt fan, myself.”

Merlin snorts and throws him the fresh clothes. “Bathroom’s down the hall to the left, cryptkeeper. There’s some hangers in there you can use to put up your clothes.”

Arthur chuckles as he leaves, and Merlin goes to the kitchen to heat up what’s left of the apple cider in the fridge. Arthur comes meandering into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair now properly rumpled and looking more at home in Merlin’s kitchen than he has any right to. Will’s clothes are a little snug on him around the hips and chest and especially the shoulders; tearing his gaze away proves harder than Merlin would like to admit.

“Hope you like warm cider,” Merlin recovers, turning on the stove.

“Depends,” Arthur says thoughtfully. “Got any rum?”

Merlin grins. “Behind you, in the top cupboard.”

The t-shirt stretches dangerously taut across his shoulder blades, and god _damn_ , Merlin wishes he could have a chance to just kiss and lick and bite his way down that spine. 

“...glasses? Merlin?”

“Huh?” Fuck, Arthur had probably caught him staring. If he’s already this out of it while sober—well, mostly sober—he can’t imagine what it’s going to be like once he’s buzzed. Maybe he should rethink this whole spiked cider thing.

Arthur smiles at him, seemingly amused. “I asked you where you kept the glasses.”

“On your right,” Merlin mumbles. He sets the stock pot on the stove and dumps in the jug of cider as Arthur returns with the glasses and rum, silent as Merlin stirs.

Merlin looks up from the pot when he feels Arthur’s eyes on him. “What?” he asks, annoyed as his face grows hot.

“Are you even allowed to drink? _Legally_?”

Merlin huffs out a laugh. “I’m well past twenty-one.” By a staggering two months, but Arthur didn’t need to know that. “And just how old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” Arthur says, not missing a beat.

Merlin hesitates, trying to do the math. “Morgana is five. How—?”

“We’re half siblings,” Arthur explains briskly. “It’s a long story.”

“Right,” Merlin agrees, and takes it as his cue to drop the subject altogether. Briefly, he wonders if a seven year age difference would be considered too taboo, then realizes he’s getting way ahead himself. He’s just a college student who moonlights as a librarian, and Arthur probably has a _real_ job, one that’s much more than simply alphabetizing books and reminding people to pay their late fees on time.

It just wouldn’t work, Merlin tells himself. 

•••

As it turns out, alcohol definitely was _not_ the best idea.

They’re both three glasses in and Merlin has a pretty good buzz going, its warmth turning his limbs into liquid and loosening his tongue; he’s sprawled languidly over the couch, bare foot pressing into Arthur’s thigh, and just that casual point of contact is enough to get blood running into his groin.

“I just finished up my postgraduate work this last summer, so now I’m back home,” Arthur explains, voice a deep and soothing drawl.

“What were you studying?”

“Western Philosophy.”

“Masters?”

“PhD, actually.”

 _That’s hot_ , Merlin thinks, and wonders if maybe he said that aloud because Arthur grins at him, eyes gleaming. “So I should be calling you _Doctor_...?”

“Pendragon,” Arthur supplies lazily, “and no. Please, don’t.”

Merlin laughs softly, throwing his head back over the couch and closing his eyes. He thinks he could fall asleep like this, warm and comfortable and just a little hard, enough to keep him interested but not to the point of warranting anything extreme. Not that he would mind, of course, but that was wishful thinking. 

“My clothes are probably dry by now,” Arthur murmurs a while later.

“Mmm.” Merlin stretches like a cat, bones popping. “Just spend the night.”

The words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to rethink or rephrase them. Merlin sits up abruptly, his fuzzy head clearing some, and meets Arthur’s appraising gaze with some trepidation.

He licks his lips. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he clarifies—and, okay, maybe a part of him did, the same part that wants to pin Arthur down and ride his dick into next week, but that’s besides the point. “I just meant—it’s late, the weather outside is still complete shit, and this sofa has a decently comfortable pull-out bed you can use.”

Merlin holds his breath until Arthur quirks his lips into an indulging half smile. “Alright,” he agrees, voice slightly husky, and Merlin’s dick twitches at the sound. 

“Let me get you a blanket,” Merlin mumbles, hoarse.

He gets up, suddenly feeling hot all over, and makes a beeline for his bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and exhales loudly, taking a few minutes to get himself under control. He _needs_ to compose himself, at least for a few more minutes until Arthur is situated. Then he could come back to his bed and jerk himself off in peace. Merlin reaches down and adjusts himself, biting his lip hard to keep from making a noise, and hastily grabs a thick blanket from the closet before marching back outside.

“Right then,” Merlin says, voice cracking. He sees that Arthur’s already gotten the sofa pulled out into a bed and is readjusting the pillows. Merlin hears a soft moan come from the TV and realizes that the Twilight Zone marathon has ended for the night, and in its place is one those trashy horror movies. Heart thumping wildly, Merlin grabs the remote and hurriedly switches it off. 

Arthur turns and Merlin tosses the blanket to him, almost hitting him square in the face. “Um, this should keep you warm for the night.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else I can get you?” Merlin asks airily. “Because if not, I think I’m going to turn in. Well, I still have to put these glasses away and make sure I turned off the stove ‘cause I left it on once and...”

In the midst of all his tipsy rambling, Arthur must have crossed the tiny space of the living room over to him because now they stand toe to toe, Arthur staring at him with dark, expectant eyes. He’s so close that Merlin can feel the heat of his body and smell his skin and  _no_ this isn’t helping his awkward hard-on situation at all.

“But first I, uh, should probably take Aithusa out of the washing machine—”

Arthur shuts him up with a kiss—hungry, demanding, and just this side of painful. Merlin stops to think, _Oh thank fuck_ , before kissing him back just as readily. He grabs a fistful of Arthur’s hair and twists his fingers in like he’s wanted to do all night. Arthur’s hands settle on his waist, slide down to his hips, and then lower still.

“Enough. About. That. Fucking. Dragon.” Arthur punctuates each word with a hard kiss, walking them backwards to the sofa bed.

“ _Aithusa_ ,” Merlin grins against his mouth, just to be contrary, and Arthur peppers bites down his neck as punishment.

Arthur stops at the foot of the bed and Merlin slips his hands underneath his t-shirt, running his palms flat up his chest, just feeling the wide, firm expanse of it all, and decides he needs that pressed against him immediately. Merlin means to pull away to get his shirt off, but Arthur chooses then to shove a leg between each of his and Merlin makes a noise that’s caught between a gasp and a moan, rocking instinctively into the hard muscle of his thigh. Merlin has been riled up for so long that the friction makes him feel like he’s going to come in his pants like he's sixteen again, so he pushes Arthur away roughly. 

“Take off your shirt,” he demands breathlessly, already stripping off his own. 

Arthur grins, somehow still managing to look dignified despite his swollen red lips and tangled hair. “What, no ‘please?’” he teases, but he tugs it off all the same. Merlin stops and just _stares_ , mouth watering at the sight of his bare chest, all hard lines and taut skin.

“Enjoying the view?”

Merlin tackles Arthur onto the sofa bed and throws a leg over his hips, straddling him, and dives for his neck, sucking kisses along his strong jawline as he rakes his nails down Arthur’s biceps.

“You’re such an arrogant _ass_ ,” Merlin mumbles into his skin, and grinds down against the erection poking his thigh, delighted to hear Arthur’s sharp intake of breath. 

Merlin goes back to kissing Arthur’s decadent mouth, sliding in his tongue and running it along the inside of his bottom lip—Arthur seems to like that, if his bruising grip on Merlin’s hips is anything to go by—and nibbling on each corner. He stops suddenly when Arthur’s hands dip into the elastic of his sweatpants, then his briefs, palming his cheeks.

“ _Wait_ ,” Merlin gasps.

“Yes?” Arthur asks, sounding irritated.

“Just so you know... I don’t put out on the first date.”

Arthur smirks. “Good thing this isn’t our first date, then,” he says, and Merlin rolls his eyes, badly hiding a smile. It all happens very quickly after that, with them bumping elbows and knees as they kick off the rest of their clothes until they’re both completely naked. Arthur licks a stripe down Merlin's throat as their bare cocks rub together and oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck_.

“Arthur—”

“Get up here,” Arthur orders, roughly hauling Merlin up so he’s got one knee on either side of Arthur’s face. Merlin gets only half a second to enjoy the determined look on Arthur’s face before he takes Merlin into his mouth, lips a wet, wicked seal around the head of his dick.

Merlin lets out a wrecked little “ahh, _fuck_ ” at that, which only seems to spur Arthur on. He tongues the slit, lapping at the precome Merlin feels himself leaking already, and then just tightens his lips and sucks harder when Merlin starts throbbing in his mouth. Without meaning to, Merlin starts rocking his hips down into the hot sheath of Arthur’s mouth, slowly at first, and then faster once Arthur opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow, gazing up at him like he’s daring Merlin to fuck his mouth. He’s got one hand resting flat on Merlin’s stomach, thumb circling his navel, and the other is reaching back to roll Merlin's balls and, _God_ , just how many times has Arthur done this before? 

Merlin shifts up on his knees, blindly groping for the drawer on the side table where he knows for a fact Will has stashed extra condoms and packets of lube. He grabs a condom and a handful of lube packets and dumps them onto Arthur’s chest, shakily tearing one packet open and squeezing the lube onto Arthur’s fingers. Arthur carelessly rubs the lube to warm it, and then his slick fingers are moving back to the crease between Merlin’s cheeks, one slippery digit slowly stroking over and around his hole before suddenly pushing in. Merlin whimpers, hips stuttering, and Arthur pauses just long enough for Merlin to adjust before pulling out, then pushing in again deeper. 

And it’s so fucking  _good_ , the contrast between Arthur’s sloppy, wet mouth on his cock and the merciless way his fingers are stretching him open. Merlin lets himself sink into it for a little while before gasping, “Fuck, stop— _stop_. I want to ride you.” 

Arthur moans around him, and the vibrations are almost enough to knock Merlin over the edge. Arthur pulls off his cock with an obscene pop, panting, his fingers reluctantly slipping free. Merlin scrambles down his body as Arthur rips the condom packet open with his teeth—“ _Jesus_ , that’s hot.” “Yeah? Wait ‘til you’re bouncing on my dick.”—and they work the condom over Arthur’s cock together, Merlin sloppily lubing it up with the remaining packets. 

Merlin’s got one hand on Arthur’s chest for balance and the other on his cock as he eases it inside, lip snagged between his teeth. It’s been a long while since he’s done much of anything with anyone, and he’d almost forgotten how good the burn felt when taking someone inside for the first time. Arthur isn’t the longest he’s had, but he’s certainly the biggest, and Merlin feels split open raw by the time he’s gotten him inside. For his part, Arthur hasn’t taken his eyes off Merlin once, mouth open and breathing heavy.  

“Oh— _oh,_ ” Merlin breathes, half chuckling, half moaning as he rises up and then sinks back down, testing the waters. Arthur stays dutifully still, but the tendons in his neck are straining against his skin and his fingers are digging painfully into Merlin’s thighs. Merlin rolls his hips harder, chasing the pleasure, and takes Arthur in even deeper, down to the base. “That’s so good.  _Yeah_.” 

Desire melting away to unbridled need, Merlin finds a stuttering rhythm, lifting his hips and slamming them back down, impaling himself on Arthur’s cock over and over again. If it were any other time, Merlin would be taking it slow, drawing it out so they could fuck for _hours_ , but Arthur’s eyes are wild, pushing him to the brink.

Between breaths, Merlin pushes the hair out of his eyes and grins down at Arthur. 

“Lazy,” he accuses. “Just gonna,  _ah_ , lie there and watch me do all the dirty work?” 

Arthur smiles up at him and it’s the only warning Merlin gets before Arthur jerks his hips up, spearing him through. Merlin cries out once, then again when Arthur thrusts upwards for a second time and hits his prostate directly. And that’s how it goes, Arthur fucking up into him ruthlessly and Merlin riding the steady up-and-down motion of his cock, fighting to get enough air into his lungs.

"Arthur, that's—you're—fuck, right _there_ —”

As the tight coil of heat in Merlin's groin starts to unravel, he reaches for his cock, but Arthur slaps his hand away. His own hand closes over its base instead and the other wraps around the back of Merlin's neck, forcing him down for a heated kiss that's little more than clinking teeth and harsh panting.

"Next time I'm going to fuck you on all fours," Arthur promises, low, and starts stripping Merlin’s cock, hard and fast. “I’m going to take you _apart_.”

Hot pleasure shoots down Merlin's spine to his cock and he shouts, trembling as he spurts wet heat up the length of Arthur's chest to his chin. He falls on top of Arthur heavily, boneless and sated, letting Arthur continue to fuck up into his oversensitive body. A few more deep, unforgiving thrusts later and Arthur is coming too, groaning filthily, and Merlin’s spent cock jerks as Arthur’s teeth sink into his earlobe.

Afterwards, Merlin can’t find it in him to move and Arthur doesn’t try to shove him off either, shifting only to pull off the condom, tie it, and carelessly throw it in the general direction of the waste bin. As Merlin’s heart slows and the ringing in his ears gradually quiets to a dull hum, he becomes aware of the knuckles Arthur is tracing up and down his spine. With the sweat cooling on his body, a little shiver runs through Merlin, but just as quickly there’s a blanket thrown over him.

 _That feels nice_ , Merlin thinks sleepily, and drifts off. 

•••

He wakes to what feels like a ray of sunlight stabbing him repeatedly in the eye. 

Mind still hazy with sleep, it takes Merlin a long, heart-stopping moment to realize just where he is, why he’s so fucking sore, and who is snoring in his ear.

Oh God. Oh _God_. 

After that, the events of the night before crash down on him all at once, and Merlin would jump up and off the sofa if there wasn’t dried come gluing their chests together. _His_ dried come. He blushes furiously. 

Beneath him, Arthur wakes up as if on cue, snuffling and stretching and blinking against the harsh sunlight. His brows furrow, eyes darting about in apparent confusion. 

Merlin holds his breath. 

It takes him a second, and then: “Good morning, Merlin.” 

So he does know who he’s with. 

“Hi.”

Merlin glances away guiltily, which is hard to do when the only thing there is to look at besides Arthur is the used condom from last night. Right, he’d take his chances looking at Arthur.

“Listen, about last night...” Merlin hesitates. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur blinks at him. “Sorry for what?”

Merlin’s face flushes hot. “It wasn’t my intention to, like, get you drunk so we could hook-up,” he tells Arthur. “Honest. I genuinely meant for you to spend the night only ‘cause it was raining. Not so that I could—um, so we could...”

“Fuck?” Arthur suggests casually.

“...Yeah.”

A slow, disarming smile spreads across Arthur’s face. He shakes his head at Merlin as though he is being especially stupid.

“It takes two to tango, Merlin.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I had my dick up your ass of my own volition.”

Well, that was certainly one way to put it. “Okay.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur sighs, looking mildly annoyed that he doesn’t seem to be getting it. He takes Merlin’s face into his hands. “Do I need to spell it out for you? I _like_ you, idiot.”

Merlin’s heart does a silly, warm little somersault. “You do?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur says emphatically. He stamps a kiss to Merlin’s mouth, morning breath be damned. “I thought that much was apparent,” he adds, and moves his thigh so Merlin can feel his obvious erection. 

“And I’d like to get to know more about you. Properly. With food or something of the like involved. Outside of the bedroom,” Arthur goes on. “Like on a _date_.”

Suddenly, Merlin bursts out laughing. 

Now it’s Arthur’s turn to look uncertain. “What?” 

“It’s just—you’ve already had my dick in your mouth, but you don’t even know what my favorite food is,” he wheezes, laughing uncontrollably. “God, you don’t even know my last name!”

Arthur grins. “Let’s change that, then,” he says. Arthur rolls Merlin underneath him and starts to kiss down his neck, Merlin’s flagging erection taking up renewed interest.

“Chicken parmesan,” Merlin sighs, tilting his head a bit to the left so Arthur can— _yes_ , perfect. “And it’s Emrys.”

“ _Emrys_ ,” Arthur repeats, like he’s tasting the name on his tongue.

“Mhmm,” Merlin hums, closing his eyes. He winds both arms around Arthur’s neck and draws him up to kiss his mouth slowly. It’s so different from the frenzied sex they’d had last night, but still just as good, the kind of moment Merlin wants to melt into and savor forever. 

Sometime later, _much_ later, Arthur pulls back to ask, like an afterthought, “You sore?”

“As hell.”

Merlin slits his eyes open just in time to see Arthur grin down at him, smug. His hair is in his eyes and his jawline is kind of stubbly—and here Merlin thought it was impossible for him to look any sexier. 

“Could use a hot shower,” Merlin remarks suggestively.

“Room for one more?”

“As long as you get all my hard to reach spots.”

“Oh, I can be _very_ thorough,” Arthur promises, and as he’s yanked unceremoniously to his feet, stumbling behind Arthur to the bathroom, Merlin wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

He can't wait to find out.  

•••

Not one, but _two_ showers later, and they’re finally eating a late breakfast on Merlin’s tiny kitchen table, Arthur munching on toast with a freshly washed, good as new Aithusa perched next to his coffee mug like a plush guardian. Merlin’s got his feet in Arthur’s lap, idly scrolling through all the missed notifications on his phone—a voicemail from his mom reminding him about brunch tomorrow afternoon, a couple Snapchats from Will, and a text from Freya sent early this morning: 

_hope your Halloween didn’t suck too much x_

Merlin glances up at Arthur, who’s suspiciously eyeing Aithusa like he’s expecting her to start flying around any second, and chuckles to himself.

 _oh, it *definitely* sucked_  

•••

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! x


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